Suspended in Gaffa
by nearsightedness
Summary: They were left behind, and now they have to pick up the pieces. HinamoriKiraShuuhei fics, written for 30dogpile at LJ
1. The Blame Game

**Title:** The Blame Game  
**Author/Artist:** Norrowa, a.k.a. Alex  
**Pairing/Characters:** Hinamori Momo, Kira Izuru, and Hisagi Shuuhei, mentioned Ichimaru Gin, Aizen Sousuke and Tousen Kaname. No real pairings in the writing itself, but the context is Momo/Izuru/Shuuhei, if that makes sense.  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Theme:** Snow's Theme, #21: Break Me  
**Rating/Warnings:** G, I'd say. Angst, possibly? Also, lots of convoluted introspective-ness, with no context or narrative, just dialogue and thoughts. Pretty badly written, IMO . Sorry.

"It's my fault."

"Kira, stop it."

"But it's my fault. He wouldn't have left if I…"

"If you had what? For God's sake, Kira, think rationally! Hinamori, help me here!"

"It wasn't your fault, Kira-kun, it was mine."

"Oh, for the love of…"

"It was Aizen-sama who corrupted Ichimaru-taichou. If I hadn't been so silly, I would have realized… I would have stopped him…" I'm so weak. How could I have let him fool me? How could I be so weak?!

"You would have stopped him how? Can't answer that one, can you?" No… don't get angry. Don't hurt them. They've been hurt enough already. God, this is like walking on eggshells. "… are you saying that it was my fault that Tousen left?"

"No, of course not, Shuuhei-san!" How can he say that? Of course it's not his fault! He is… he is… amazing… It could never be his fault.

"Explain that one to me, Hinamori." Calm. Stay calm. "What makes me better than you? No, don't answer that, I'll tell you what makes me better than you. _Nothing._"

"But you're a good person…"

"And you're not, Kira?"

"No… I'm not." I can't be. If I had been good… if I had been good enough… he would still be here.

"Yes—yes _you are,_ Kira!" _Voice catching, snagged on brambles of emotion._ No. Calm. I can't do this any more. I can't just… why do they have to be such idiots? Calm. Stay calm. Don't scare them. Why do they keep on running away from me? Why do they keep on bending? You used to smile… god, come back. Please come back… Calm. Calm.

"But I wasn't good enough…" Why am I telling him this? I shouldn't be bothering him… he doesn't care. "I'm sorry—"

"What _for_?" Calm. Calm. Calm. Calm.

"Kira-kun, it's not your fault. You shouldn't be apologizing… I should be."

Snap. _Breath drawn in, hitching in his throat, calm, keep the tears back, the seawall has been breached and his voice breaks out of him._ "FOR GOD'S SAKE! _SHUT UP!_"

Oh, no. Calm. Calm. Calm, calm calm calm—too late. The camel's back is broken.

"_Fine!_ It was your fault! Both of you, it was all your fault!" I can't stand this, I can't stand this, please listen to me—if it hurts you to have me grab your arm as you fall, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but I can't… I'm not perfect… Calm, I can't stay calm STOP RUNNING PLEASE! "Thanks to you, the Soul Society is at war, threatened with destruction—it's all your doing!" This is breaking my heart, listen to me! "But you know what? I forgive you!"

Silence.

"Shuuhei…"

"Shuuhei-san, I… you're not… I…" What is there to say? It's my fau…

_I forgive you!_

It's over. It's all… over…

… and I think that that's the hardest part.

It's over. I failed. And that… is that.

But… "Thank you, Shuuhei-san." Whispering. Trying not to acknowledge the end. Trying to lessen the blow. Failing. Always failing.

"Yes… thank you, Shuuhei. Thank you…"

"… You guys really don't get it, do you?"


	2. From the Heart

**Title:** From the Heart  
**Author/Artist:** Norrowa  
**Pairing/Characters:** Kira Izuru, Hinamori Momo, mentions of Hisagi Shuuhei, Ichimaru Gin, Aizen Sousuke and Abarai Renji, with Izuru/Momo and implied Izuru/Momo/Shuuhei.  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Theme:** Snow's Theme, #31: D.I.D.  
**Rating/Warnings:** PG? Some mention of kissing and mooshy stuff like that P This time, lots of narrative, no dialogue and thoughts. Again, though, pretty crappy . Sorry.

Sometimes Izuru isn't really sure just who he is. Sometimes, he finds himself saying words which aren't his own—words which are Ichimaru's, Shuuhei's, Renji's. Sometimes he looks at the world, and he blinks, and the past catches up to the present with a painful lurch, and everything goes gray and weak. It's like riding a bicycle with broken gears down a narrow, twisted road. It seems to him that there are two parts of him, the one which serves Ichimaru Gin and the one which doesn't. He's like an animal in a cage, so crazed by the confined space that it half-believes it's out in the wild. He is at war with himself, and sometimes he snaps at Renji because he can't figure out where he begins and other people end.

It seems to Izuru that he is a collection of other peoples' mannerisms, other peoples' guilt, other peoples' mistakes. Every time he speaks, every time he thinks, every time he acts, he's putting himself in another person's shoes, although they may be too small or too large and although sometimes he may just want to fall to his knees and never walk again.

Sometimes—worst of all—he forgets what the grass, wet with morning dew, feels like beneath his bare feet.

But then there's _her_.

She comes along, and she reminds him that there was a world before Gin. There was a world where his parents' death wasn't his burden to shoulder. There was a world where he laughed without restraint, loved without suspicion, and simply was without doubt. She comes along and she pulls him close, stands on her tiptoes to kiss him, fleetingly, shyly, and just runs her hands through his hair and says nothing. Asks nothing. She's showing him something, and he trusts her in a way he can't really trust anybody else, so he believes her. She cries silently sometimes, when she remembers Aizen, and she doesn't ask for comfort. The arms which slide around her, the hand which rubs a circle on his back—those are his, and his alone. _He_ loves her, and she never told him to do it. He just does.

And she loves him, so there must be something to love.

Shuuhei is his rock, his island, his place to step back to when he needs to remove himself from the world. Hinamori, though, is the one who brings him back. She doesn't call him, she doesn't tug his hand, but he likes to think that she needs him just the same and something in him which is wholly his would die for her. She fills him with confidence, but it's not in the way water fills a cup. It's more in the way of a billion electrons exchanging, countless chemicals reacting, and starting to glow as a new star is formed, day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute. The warmth is slow, and the thing is that it comes from him and not from her so he knows it will always be there. It will never leave him with nothing but memories of a razor-sharp smile, because it is his to tend. _His._

But most of all, she's lost, too. She reminds him that there's nothing shameful about needing Shuuhei, that there's nothing shameful about being guilty, that there's nothing wrong with him for not stopping Ichimaru, because he sees that she's as pure and good as can be and she's doing it too. She doesn't place those any judgments on him. She just smiles at him when the tears have stopped and, wordlessly, reminds him that, despite everything, he is… himself.


	3. Love Lies Bleeding

**Title:** Love Lies Bleeding  
**Author/Artist:** Norrowa  
**Pairing/Characters:** Shuuhei-centric, implied Shuuhei/Izuru/Momo, with mentioned Tousen, Aizen and Ichimaru  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Theme:** Snow's, #22: Tragedy  
**Rating/Warnings:** I'd say it's G. However, there are some warnings. Firstly, it's Shuuhei first-person POV, very introspective. Secondly, there is _angst out the goddamn wazoo_. And lots of poetic metaphory-stuff. Possibly OOC, for that reason. But mainly, oh, the angst!

---

Even now, people keep on telling me how _sorry_ they are about Tousen. They say it's a fiasco, say it makes them so _sad_, say it's such a tragedy. I was raised to be a polite boy and therefore grew into a polite man, so I always smile and thank them, and tell them that I'm coping well. When they tell me how well I'm holding up as the 9th division's new captain, I thank them again. It's simple, really; it's routine by now, and I hardly even pay attention to the apologetic platitudes.

But whenever I hear someone call it a "tragedy", I think that they just don't understand. It's not a tragedy. Maybe it was a tragedy, but it's over now. I have Izuru, and Momo. I'm not alone. I'm not _incomplete_. The loss was surprisingly easy to overcome; one day I woke up and realized that I still had my friends, and I had my lovers too, and that that was _all right_. I think that Izuru and Momo both realized the same thing at some point. They loss is not a tragedy any more.

No. The tragedy isn't that they're gone, but that we have overcome our losses.

That sounds perverse. Masochistic, maybe. Let me explain.

Now that the grief isn't raw and bleeding—now that the scrapes have scabbed over, now that the long, weeping gashes have been stitched up—now we can look down at our bodies and look inwards upon our minds and wonder what went wrong. Now we can rationalize. Now _I_ can look back, and I can tell myself where exactly my balance shifted too far to the left and I started to wobble, started to tip off that precarious pedestal of trust and safety. I can analyze and obsess over it, because it's so hard to let go even if I'm healed—so hard to watch the bruises fade, because they're the last memory I have. So I don't let go. I pick open the scabs in punishment and hope that they'll scar so that I have a memento. I judge myself.

The problem is that there is one thing that was injured in the fall which hasn't healed. My judgment was shattered, and it hasn't been repaired. I've just swept the pieces under the rug, because I have an obligation to my division, to my friends, to my comrades—and the obligation is stronger than ever because I failed them so badly, following Tousen. So I've hidden the shards away and forced myself to soldier on, like some clockwork toy all wound up by guilt and guilt and guilt. A tin soldier, with a bloody tear painted on his face.

But my judgment is broken. My judgment is broken and I'm blaming myself. I've slid down some nameless slope, into darkness, and my judgment is broken.

And I'm not sure if it will ever heal, no matter how many times Izuru says that he loves me, no matter how many times I make Momo laugh. No matter how many times I protect one of my subordinates, no matter how many times I may make the memory of my mother proud, no matter how many payments I make towards my debt... my judgment is broken, and I'm so scared—_so scared!_—that I'll never regain enough trust and self-respect to repair it.

It's the same for Izuru and Momo. I know it, when I see that heartbreaking little quirk of Momo's lips when Aizen's name is mentioned. I know it, when I watch Izuru staring out the window, and he just asks me—"Shuuhei, do you ever wish you could go back in time?"

They say that it's a tragedy that Tousen, Aizen and Ichimaru betrayed us so. But they're wrong.

The tragedy is not in the loss. The tragedy is not the past, not in the wounds which are growing older and older. The tragedy is in every new day we three see, every breath we draw in, every minute we live. The tragedy is the fact that we—the ones they left behind—have to live with the knowledge of everything we could have done.

That is the tragedy.


	4. Another Girl

**Author/Artist:** Norrowa  
**Title:** Another Girl  
**Pairing:** Shuuhei/Izuru/Momo—or, as I've dubbed it, Shuzumo xD Implied past Shuuhei/Matsumoto.  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Theme:** Snow's, #8—"Them".  
**Rating/Warnings:** G. Pretty tame. Possibly angsty, also possibly sappy—let's say, mild angst with a possibly sappy resolution?

_For I have got / Another girl / Who will love me to the end / Through thick and thin / She will always be my friend_

Faced with Izuru's hurt look and Momo's sad one, Shuuhei could only hang his head.

"Why didn't you tell us, Shuuhei?" Momo asked finally. He didn't have to look; he knew that she had that look on, that look where her brows were furrowed but her eyes were wide. He didn't want to look. He couldn't look. The sight of her face would only send another wave of misery through him.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I'm… I'm sorry." And again.

"She wasn't asking for an apology," Izuru said. His voice wasn't sharp, just… quiet. Quiet, and disappointed. "She was asking for a reason. Why didn't you tell us?"

"I…" _I can't answer that. It's stupid. It's just stupid. It's laughable. Please don't ask me. It's dumb._

For a while, everybody was silent. Shuuhei stared at his knees, and wished that they were a bit more interesting, so that the urge to look up—to search for changes in Izuru and Momo's faces, search for forgiveness and approval in them in the same way a bleeding man might search for something to bandage his wounds with—was easier to resist. He hadn't meant for them to find out about him and Matsumoto. It wasn't important. It just wasn't important. It was in the past. It was over. It was stupid. Just stupid.

"You should have told us, Shuuhei," said Momo. "You should have told us. It… I don't want to make it sound like…"

"It's as though you don't trust us," said Izuru. "It's not… it's not huge. It just… hurts. Especially since you told us that there was nothing between you two. Do you…" He paused, and Shuuhei could feel Izuru's gaze on him. "Do you trust us?"

"Yes!" said Shuuhei immediately. "Of course I do. I—"

"Then why didn't you tell us?"

"I… It's nothing. It's stupid."

"Shuuhei… tell us," said Momo. "_Please._" And at that, he couldn't resist.

"I was afraid that you'd… That you'd leave." Stupid. Stupid. Now they'd think that he _didn't_ trust them. And he did.

Didn't he?

"Shuuhei," sighed Momo.

When Izuru next spoke, there was something hard in his tone of voice, and that made Shuuhei raise his head again. Izuru was not a hard person by nature—he was all morning fog, all cool blue shadow, all warm golden sunlight that only a mirror could capture. But there was something hard behind his soft, smooth alto voice when he next spoke—something like a granite pillar, the last remnant of an ancient temple; something like the weathered face of a statue that had seen a thousand years.

"Don't hide things from us any more, Shuuhei," Izuru said. His eyes were intent, earnest. There was still something sad and hurt in the line of his mouth, but there was, Shuuhei thought, something happy and kind, too. "There's no need to. We're a _them_ now, and we will never come apart. Ever."


	5. I'm Only Sleeping

**Title:** I'm Only Sleeping  
**Author/Artist:** Norrowa  
**Pairing/Characters:** Hisagi Shuuhei, Kira Izuru, Hinamori Momo, with Shuuhei/Izuru/Momo  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Theme:** Snow's Theme, #27: Bribery  
**Rating/Warnings:** G. Domesticity, attempted humour, possibly WAFF?  
**Notes:** About the Shuuhei-taichou comment, just... assume that in the universe behind this fic Shuuhei had achieved bankai and is now captain of the ninth division, okay? xD

_Please don't wake me / No don't shake me / Leave me where I am / I'm only sleeping_

"Shuuhei. Shuuhei, wake up." The voice was quiet, but insistent, and the hand shaking his shoulder was gradually causing the fuzzy, dark blanket of half-consciousness to slide off of Shuuhei's mind. Which was a pity, because Shuuhei really loved that space between waking and sleeping where the world was condensed into the heavenly comfort of his bed, and the past and future and present all blurred together in a single bubble of warmth and softness. "Shuuhei, you have to wake up now."

"Mnnnrgh," was Shuuhei's eloquent response.

_You really should get up,_ said the quiet, responsible voice in the back of his head. It came through all muzzy and unclear, but as the thought crossed his mind Shuuhei suddenly wondered if the voice above him which was now saying "hey, Shuuhei, wake up" was in his head, too. _That_ thought, in turn, prompted him to slowly and reluctantly open his eyes and roll onto his back, in the name of science. For it would be bloody strange if the voices in his head had somehow managed to migrate outside of it, he mused as he blinked the film of sleep from his eyes. Maybe he could figure out how they did it he could sell the technique to Mayuri...

Then Shuuhei recognized Izuru's face and groaned. "Damn," he mumbled, draping his hand over his eyes to block out the light. Immediately, fingers closed over his wrist and pulled his arm down to his side, leaving him with no defense against the merciless morning light. Blinking owlishly, Shuuhei scowled as Izuru, who was leaning over him and smirking ever so slightly.

"You look," said Izuru suddenly, his brow furrowing in thought, "... miffed. Yes, that's the word."

"Well, I _feel_ miffed," Shuuhei grumbled. "You wake me up and I don't even get a good morning kiss." At that, Izuru laughed, and a moment later he felt the expected brush of lips against his. "Where's Momo?" he asked afterwards, letting his eyelids slide shut again.

"Making breakfast. Don't you dare close your eyes again, Shuuhei-_taichou_. You have to get up."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Izuru," said a new voice, "is Shuuhei up yet?" Shuuhei heard rather than saw Momo enter the room, and he sank further into the bed.

"No, he's refusing to leave the bed."

"Oh. Well, if he doesn't want breakfast—"

Shuuhei's eyes shot open even as he sat up so quickly that his shoulder bumped against Izuru's. "Wait, what? Did you say that you're cooking breakfast?"

Izuru started to laugh, and Momo smiled. "Yes, I'm making breakfast," she said. "Will you get up _now_?" Shuuhei opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again, the words dying in his mouth, as they all looked at each other. Izuru stopped laughing, and everybody was quiet.

They were all remembering the number of times it had been the other way around, Shuuhei coaxing the Momo and Izuru out of bed, them trying to get their sluggish limbs to work and wishing that it was the sun of the days when Ichimaru and Aizen were still there shining in through the windows, not the sun of the new and cold and empty world.

"Yeah," said Shuuhei quietly, finally, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and going over to Momo, bending down to kiss her lightly, while she looked up at him dark brown eyes so full of emotion that none was recognizable. "Yeah, I'm getting up." He felt Izuru come up behind him, and heard the younger shinigami's voice in his ear.

"Then let's go." 


	6. Boulevard of Broken Dreams

**Title:** Boulevard of Broken Dreams  
**Author/Artist:** Norrowa  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Pairing:** Hinamori Momo-centric, with sideways Shuuhei and Izuru and implicit Hisagi Shuuhei/Kira Izuru/Hinamori Momo  
**Theme:** Snow's Theme, #3: Price  
**Rating/Warnings:** G. Angst. Bizarre.

_The love that you find here you borrow / You cannot keep it long, it seems_

See the girl? The one with the adorable big eyes, and soft mouth, and dark hair in that cute little bun? Step right up and name your price. She's easily bought, easily sold! She's a bit used, mind you, a bit worn and battered—but I assure you, she's still top quality.

... well, all right. She's a bit worn-down. But I'm sure that with a bit of fake love she'll be as right as rain. Are you interested? You, sir? The one with the blonde hair and the blue eyes? Or you, with the scars and tattoos? Perhaps both of you—then you can split the price between you. She's pretty cheap as it is. All you have to do is hold her hand, stare into her eyes, and draw her close.

Run with her. Talk with her. Laugh with her. She'll love you. She'll love you the way a flower loves the sun. Stupid girl. Kiss her. Go on. The pretence isn't that much of a price to pay, is it? Hold her, the both of you. That's all you have to do to buy her. Like I said, she's cheap.

Stop complaining! So yes, she's a bit used, a bit worn and torn. A bit smudged and faded, here, with a couple of frayed corners and some bad patching—she did that herself, what can I say? True, she's one owner away from new, and that owner didn't treat her too well. But stop pestering her like that about it. She can't help it. She wishes she was new, too. With time, though, you can heal her. It's not that difficult, and the price is low. It'll even out in the end. She'll give you a lifetime of devotion, and you can remake her so that she's stronger. Better. I'm sure she'll thank you for it. Well, at least until you throw her away again. And you will. I'll tell you a secret, because I really have no fondness for the people running this show: she's a bit boring. Gets old fast.

See the girl? The boring one, yes, the one with the sweet look and the devotion in her eyes. Her price isn't high. She's affordable, especially for two gentlemen like yourselves—you look a bit run-down, if you'll pardon me saying. Maybe she'll offer you some comfort until you can get yourselves on your feet again. You name the price. The lower the better, even.

See the girl? The one who's crying in the middle of the night, silently, so that her lovers don't hear? The one who's wondering when she's going to be thrown away again? The one who wishes she was free but is caught somewhere where she can't get out? The one named Hinamori Momo?

That's me.


End file.
